Reflections on Weakness and Leadership
Pic by Remi Walle at Unsplash. Article by Everyday Theology https://substack.com/@everydaytheology
When You’re Too Weird to Lead
I’ve noticed that there are moments in church life when a man can feel the importance of a task before him and at the same time, think himself inadequate.
I know those moments well, because I experience them often.
I know what it’s like to stand off to the side before a service begins, Bible in hand, heart pounding, hands shaking, while asking God for help because I don’t think I’m qualified enough to give the task before me what it requires (even a small task). I know what it’s like to want Christ to be honored and yet to be deeply aware of myself. My voice, my nerves, and my flaws all yell at me from inside. There are even times when leading feels like I need rescued and like I need to run away and pretend like I’m sick.
But lately I’ve begun to embrace this apparent tension.
In his book, The Clay Pot Conspiracy, Dave Harvey says this,
Pastoring is where an imperfect person leads imperfect people in an imperfect church to reach an imperfect world.
I’m not a pastor, but I think this idea is applicable for more people than just pastors.
Earlier in his book Dave also says this,
Our Weakness + God’s Power = Resilient Ministry
I’ve learned this the hard way. The art of becoming a leader in the church isn’t so much about looking capable, like people imagine, rather I find it to be more like leaning on God because I know I’m not capable.
I remember as a kid and even through my teenage years I couldn’t speak to a group, whether big or small, without my hands shaking and always ending everything in tears. Because of this, I came to the conclusion that I wasn’t a leader and that if God wanted me to lead anyone he would need a miracle.
But, He kept giving me more opportunities (starting with my own family).
Yet, I found myself assuming that, in time, a man who leads would grow into some kind of tranquility, that the work of standing before God’s people would eventually feel natural, almost effortless. But, that hasn’t been my experience. I find that it’s more like a boat tossed around by the storms of the sea.
I think the temptation in leadership (whatever leadership a person finds themselves in as a Christian) is that a man can begin to think that what the church, or even his family, needs most from him is a great appearance (which I don’t have), clarity of speech (I also don’t have), and a confidence and humor that carries the church to great heights (I, again, don’t have). But the gathered church doesn’t need a man who appears put together. Indeed, neither do my wife and children.
The church only needs help to see God.
Not me.
Not anyone else.
God.
Isn’t that the point?
When the church gathers, the great need is not that the leaders be impressive, but that Christ be visible, that the Word of God be clear, that distractions be lowered, that hearts be lifted, that the people of God be drawn again to reverence, faith, repentance, and hope.
We want the people to see Christ and cling to him as their only treasure.
Much of that work happens beyond the one man in the front and most of it happens through the spirit’s work alone. Indeed, beyond this, it happens in small acts of service, in the preparation, in the removing of needless things from the moment, in helping the room become attentive to God rather than fascinated with a man (whether he’s doing announcements, call to worship, singing, or preaching).
I don’t think of leadership now mainly as bringing my “strengths” before the body. I think of it as bringing my weakness honestly before God and the body and asking him not to let me get in the way.
Now, weakness can be damaging if it causes a man to turn inward like it did with me for so many years (and still does). It can make you timid, self-absorbed, and even fearful. But I’ve learned that there is another kind of weakness, the kind that strips a man of self-trust and drives him to prayer. The kind that makes him cling to Christ. The kind that teaches him that he can’t live on gifting alone, nor on his personality. It teaches him that he must ask for help. I’ve found myself asking things like:
Father, help me.
Lord, keep me from being a distraction.
Father, let Christ be seen.
Spirit, please use me.
These are the prayers of a man who is finally learning he’s not the point. And maybe at times it’s also a defense against wanting to be the point. These kinds of prayers are of one who remembers that God has always delighted to place his treasure in jars of clay, so that the surpassing power might plainly be his and not ours. The Lord has never been embarrassed to use weak men. He has only ever been glorified by it. This is something that took years to learn and I still struggle to believe it.
This is good news for a man like me who thinks himself ordinary. It’s good news for the man who has been too aware of himself. It’s good news for the man who steps forward to lead while inwardly pleading for grace and even mercy. It’s good news for the man who loves Christ, loves the church, and still thinks, at times, that he’s too strange and too ordinary for the work set before him.
Such a man is not necessarily disqualified by that feeling, though I think many people would inwardly disagree. He may, in fact, understand more than the man who thinks he has mastered the thing.
I think Christian leadership is not a great presence, strong communication, or the art of appearing untroubled. It is the humble work of trusting God, speaking his truth, and serving his people while knowing full well that, apart from grace, we are inadequate for all of it.
I know what it is to conclude that I’m too weird to lead. It simply feels uncomfortable. But I’m beginning to think that this discomfort has been one of God’s greatest kindnesses to me. It has kept exposing the vanity and pride of my heart. It has kept reminding me that the church doesn’t need my “put together-ness”. It has kept sending me back to a life that clings.
And I think that’s where a man becomes most useful. It’s not when he finally feels strong enough to lead, but when he has been taught, again and again, to seek help from the One who leads him.
Maybe being too weird to lead isn’t always what keeps a man from serving or even something that disqualifies him.
Maybe sometimes it’s what teaches him how.
Cling to Christ!
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